


Chicken If You Don't

by smalltrolven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cooking, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, POV Sam Winchester, Schmoop, Season/Series 11, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 15:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5971480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam just wants to cook Dean some halfway decent chicken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chicken If You Don't

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, only my words. Set after episode 11.12 “Don’t You Forget About Me”.

 

It shouldn’t be this hard. Jody had said it was easy, she’d refused to even write it down for him. Said to call if he needed a reminder of the steps. But did the garlic go on before or after the olive oil? And was he supposed to pat the inside of the chicken dry with paper towels too?  He dialed her number, feeling worse than foolish.  But he wanted to get it right, or at least close enough that Dean would maybe make that awesome noise again. The one that sounded even better than his best orgasm noise. 

 

“Hey, Sam, what’s cookin’?” Jody said.

 

“Heh, that’s why I’m calling you. I’m attempting to make your chicken recipe for dinner tonight,” Sam said, feeling beyond stupid for making this call. He should have just looked up a recipe on the internet instead of bothering Jody. She had enough on her to-do list with a broken leg and dealing with Claire and Alex’s teenage drama.

 

“Oh good, you’re giving it a go. So, what’s up, just need a cheerleader? Go Sam! You can do it!”

 

“No, uh,” Sam laughed at Jody’s cheer, ”That’s great, but I need to know the steps again. I think I may have gotten them mixed up. I should have written it down when you told me,” Sam said. “I’m just not that used to cooking I guess.”

 

Jody rattled off the recipe and Sam dutifully wrote it down in a shaky hand. He’d go back later and do a neater copy. “The trick is to take it one step at a time and you’ll be fine. Just make sure the chicken is as fresh as possible and the oven is up to temperature before you put it in,” Jody reminded him. 

 

“Thanks, Jody, you’re a life-saver,” Sam said. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

 

“Sam, you are in fact a life-saver. And it is no bother, it’s real nice to talk to someone over the age of eighteen.”

 

“Going a little stir crazy on your leave still, huh?” Sam asked.

 

“Yeah, got another week before I get to go back according to my doc. Enforced vacation is no picnic,” Jody griped.

 

“I’m glad it wasn’t much worse of a break,” Sam said.

 

“Me too. Hey, I gotta go, the girls will be back soon and I have to at least make it look like I did something around here today,” Jody said.

 

“Okay, bye Jody,” Sam said.

 

“Bye, Sam. Let me know how it turns out, huh?” Jody said.

 

Sam hung up and turned back to the raw whole chicken sitting on the cutting board, taunting him with its uncooked state.  He reviewed what he’d just written down and started in on the steps, one by one they went easily. Just like Jody had said. The potatoes were washed and ready, the onion chopped, all that he was waiting for was the oven to be hot enough. It finally buzzed and he placed the pan into the oven, closing the door with a quick prayer.

 

“Just please, let it be good enough,” Sam said to Whoever happened to be listening.

 

Sam set two alarms on his phone and the one on the oven. Just to be sure.

 

Dean looked up from his stack of research a few times as Sam paced around the reading room. “You’re makin’ me nervous, what’s up with all the pacing, dude?”

 

“Oh, uh, sorry. I’ll go back into…” Sam dashed out of the reading room into the hall that led to his bedroom. He paced back and forth a few times and then decided to go take a shower to kill a little time. In the middle of washing his hair he felt strong arms encircle his waist. He leaned back into Dean’s chest and sighed at how good it felt just to be held like this, under the cascade of hot water. Dean’s hands wandered down and began stroking him to hardness. He leaned forward and braced himself with two hands against the wall, Dean’s hand speeding up into a blur aided by some conditioner to slick the way. The piercing wail of his phone alarm cut through his nearing bliss.

 

“What the hell is that?” Dean squawked, nearly losing his footing.

 

Sam braced Dean until he was steadied and peeled himself away from his brother’s arms, giving a quick final rinse to his hair. He ducked out and toweled off quickly, turned off the alarm and went pelting down the hallway in Dean’s robe. He tried and failed to ignore how hard his cock still was, and how ridiculous he must look with it sticking out from the robe. But the chicken, the chicken would be worth it. It had to be. And taking this chance to try to serve it to Dean, and maybe make him happy was what all this was about. Orgasms could wait. The chicken looked perfect, he set it on top of the stove, covered it with foil and ran back down the hall to the bathroom.

 

Dean was still under the spray, evidently taking care of business for himself, and making quite a show of it. Two, or was it three fingers buried in his own ass, pumping in and out. Sam groaned at the sight and threw off the robe, stepping back into the shower stall behind him. He grabbed Dean’s hand, stopping the movement and bit the back of Dean’s neck with a growl.

 

“Hey, that’s my job,” Sam said with a continuation of the growl just because he knew Dean liked it.

 

“Well, you took off like a maniac, so I was just following through on my plan,” Dean complained, trying to get his hand back from Sam’s control.

 

Sam held onto Dean’s hand, pulled it up to the small of Dean’s back and pressed him to bend forward. Dean grumbled but complied, bracing himself against the wall with one hand and pushed his ass back towards Sam.

 

“C’mon, Sammy. Waited long enough for ya,” Dean complained.

 

Sam chuckled and slapped at Dean’s ass. “Bossiest bottom to ever bottom, I swear, Dean.” He stroked himself back to full hardness with some slick conditioner and stepped in-between Dean’s spread legs. He sank inside his brother in one steady push that made both of them groan in unison. 

 

“Damn, you feel so fuckin’ huge like this,” Dean said, already breathless.

 

Sam pulled Dean back onto his cock so he went just that little bit deeper, finding the sweet spot that made Dean writhe and whine. 

 

“Made you wait for me, because I made a surprise for you,” Sam teased in Dean’s ear. “Come on, Dean, come for me. It’s waiting in the kitchen.” 

 

Dean groaned at either the thought of food, or maybe at how good it felt to get pounded this hard. Either way, he came, hot and pulsing over Sam’s hand, clenching so hard around Sam he could barely keep up his thrusts. Sam kept going anyway, the rhythmic rut so essential and primal, unstoppable. He wanted to say something, to communicate it somehow, how it felt, what it meant to him, to be able to take Dean like this. Take him apart, put him together, all of it so good and so right. But all of those words got swept away as Dean urged him on to completion by pushing back into his thrusts. He buried himself even deeper inside Dean, heedless of getting lost in the feeling of bliss.

 

“Sammy?” Dean asked, sounding a little concerned, twisting around from his bent-over position to check on Sam, grabbing back at Sam’s hip and gripping him just a little too tightly.

 

Sam snapped himself out of his daze and slowly pulled out of Dean, both of them groaning at the loss of the heat and connection. They washed each other off gently under the still-warm spray of water.

 

“God, I love this shower. We never run out of hot-water no matter how long we’re in here fuckin’ around,” Dean said, grinning up at Sam.  “Now was I hearing things in the heat of the moment, or were you saying you had a surprise for me in the kitchen?”

 

“Oh you’ll be surprised all right,” Sam purred, kissing Dean hot and hard under the water until Dean went soft and pliant in his arms. Now that he had all his strength back he loved being able to do that again. Holding Dean up went he went boneless like that, just because he’d made him swoon. They’d never say it to each other, but it did for them both, big time.

 

….***.…

 

“Hold on, wait a second, you made all this? The whole thing with the potatoes and the chicken and everything? You didn’t go buy it somewhere and just reheat it?” Dean asked in an incredulous voice that made Sam toy with the idea of taking the plate away from him.

 

Sam’s momentary pulse of annoyance at Dean passed when he heard the yummy sounds Dean was already starting to make after just a few bites of chicken. “Yeah, I uh got the recipe from Jody. Thought it was worth trying it out, see if I could come close,” Sam said, feeling embarrassed at how eager he was to please Dean.

 

“I got the recipe too. Saw how much you liked it when we were there. But I hadn’t…uh, tried it out yet,” Dean admitted.

 

“I heard how much you liked it. Those noises you were making at Jody’s table, almost made me cream right there, Dean.”

 

Dean got a look of surprised lust on his face, like he’d never imagined something like that, Sam losing it in front of their little adopted family. While they’d been having a safe sex talk of all things.

 

“This is fucking amazing, Sammy. Tastes just as good as hers. No, it tastes even better because I know you made it just for me.”

 

Sam ducked his head and smiled, embarrassed at the praise, but still pleased. _It’s just chicken_ he kept telling himself.  But it was more than that and they both knew it. This was something very different from what they usually did for each other. A plate full of a home-cooked meal, something hearty and healthy and tasty was verging on the domestic perfection they’d never had together or even imagined for themselves. It was hard to just accept, to not worry about things being too good to be true, or to last for long. For the bad that always seemed to follow their best times seemed to get worse and worse the older they got together. 

 

Sam shook his head a little, no shadows allowed, not in here, not tonight.  He forked up another bite of chicken and let himself enjoy it. Dean across the table from him, well-fed, well-fucked, and well…happy. Even if this was the calm before the storm or whatever, he’d take it. File it away in that best-of file in his memories for when he’d need it next.


End file.
